How to Finish Ice and Fire in Less than 5000 words
by Straylight12
Summary: A bit of fun- from the end of Dance with Dragons, this takes us to the conclusion of the epic work!  A mix of humorous and slightly more serious in content.  No idea why the word count gets 600 extra words...


**How to finish Song of Ice and Fire in less than 5000 words**

Mereen

Barristan Selmy stood in the audience hall.

'My Lord Hand!' cried the first messenger, 'The WindBlown have delivered our hostages safe and unharmed!'

'Ser!' cried the second, 'Our forces have utterly crushed the Yunkai'i and their Sellswords have turned as predicted!'

'My Lords!' cried the third, 'The Queen is here!'

'Good Lord,' said Selmy, and dropped to his knees along with everyone else apart from Strong Belwas, who ran up and hugged Daenerys in spite of her still being rather dirty.

'You are too thin,' he said, 'Strong Belwas will make you eat and grow strong, and he will taste all food before you eat it.'

'I'm pleased to be back,' said Dany. 'It's alright, the Dragons are obeying me again now that I have stopped doubting myself. Well done on everything you did while I was away. Drogon helped me take command of a new khalasaar on the way back, they've got food for everyone.'

'My lady, a gift from Brown Ben Plumm,' said yet another messenger, and three ragged figures entered the hall- one large and two very small. 'For this gift and fighting on your side, he asks that you let him live.'

'Very well, but he is not to expect me to trust him again.' She turned to the 'gift' and started.

'Ser Jorah!' said Dany.

'My Queen.' He fell down on one knee. 'I beg your mercy for returning, but I have found a man who may be of use to you, and I will serve you the rest of my days.' He motioned to one of the dwarfs next to him.

'Greetings my lady,' said the small man, bowing low. 'I am Tyrion of House Lannister. I hate my family as much as you do, and I will help you destroy them. I am very clever, very learned, I can talk myself out of anything and I'm at your service.'

'Say something useful.'

'According to the old texts, Dragons without enough iron in their diet get bad wind and become very grumpy.'

'That explains a few things. You're in. Skahaz! Tell all the old slaver families to vacate their pyramids at once or my Dragons will burn them, they know they can do it. They are to surrender all arms and armour and give us adult hostages we can kill if we need to. You and Tyrion are to interrogate anyone you like and find out who the Harpy is and who tried to poison me.'

'My Queen,' said Tyrion, bowing. Then his eyes lit on Pretty Meris and he started upright.

'_Tysha!_' he exclaimed.

The Wall

'Are you alright Jon?'

Jon winced and peeled open his eyes, only for Ghost to start licking him again.

'Ouch ouch ouch!' he groaned. 'I feel like I got stabbed four times.'

'Five. Good thing you're really tough and I learned loads and loads of medicine when I became a Maester.'

'Sam! That was dead quick!'

'Well I am a fast learner once you cured my self esteem problem.'

'Did you save me?'

'I had help. I went straight to your quarters and when I heard Ghost was in a strop I realised something had to be wrong, so I let him out. He went straight to you along with Tormund and Val, who'd heard the Giant bellowing. They and all the Wildlings drove the traitors off you and it turned out the rest of the Watch didn't share their views.'

'Well that's a relief,' said Jon. 'What about Queen Selyse?'

'She looked out of the window, saw the carnage, and went into a faint she hasn't come out of yet. Which is good because it looks like she was behind the attempt on your life, she was going to turn the Watch against he Wildlings, which wouldn't have ended well.'

'Melisandre?'

'She told us all this. Her face was nearly as livid as her robes when the Queen boasted what she'd plotted, thinking she'd be pleased. I think Melisandre has the last of the Queen's Men properly under her control now.'

'Pretty stupid of her not to see it coming.'

'She was concentrating elsewhere. She tells you not to worry about Winterfell, it's handled.'

WinterFell

'To victory!' Ramsay Bolton raised his glass.

'You still need your wife back,' said his father quietly. 'You may have written all those things to the Wall, but not all of them were true.'

'We will catch them soon enough, or likely as not dig their corpses out of snowdrifts. Now bring me Mance Rayder, I want to practice what I'll do to Reek when I catch him.'

'Why not celebrate?' Roose motioned at the hall. 'Since the Freys locked our friends the Manderlys out of the Castle, we have more food per man. I think we should send some men up to the battlements to wave platters of food at them as they starve in the snow.'

Ramsay frowned at the end of the hall, where the messenger he'd sent to bring Mance was hammering and pulling on the door, joined by a worried-looking guard. He looked the other way to see the second half of the Umber men leaving the hall by the internal door, and leapt to his feet.

'STOP THEM!' he howled, but the first man to move towards them dropped with an arrow in his chest.

'Ahem.' Fat Lord Wyman Manderly stood up on the balcony. Bowmen were fanned out on either side of him, and next to him stood Stannis Baratheon, glowering, and-

'Reek!' howled Ramsay, leaping to his feet.

'_Theon,'_ insisted the white-haired man.

'Why are you still alive, and how the hell did you get into my Castle?' demanded Roose.

'Your birds came home to roost, all of them,' grated Stannis. 'Theon warned us about Karstark; he is now a hostage for the good behaviour of his men. Manderly has been able to get messages to and from us for a while. We only pretended to retreat, leaving our dead behind us unburied, and then we advanced again. As only the Manderlys tried to follow us, you never knew any better.'

'Traitor!' spat Big Frey at Lord Wyman. The fat lord contrived to look mildly shocked, although the fresh bandage over his chins spoiled the effect a bit.

'Seeming how you locked me out of your Castle to die, I hardly think that's fair.'

'You were plotting against us all along!'

'Well I grant that is true, but then seeing how without your violation of guest-right the North would be winning the war and you would not have taken my son, I suppose anything is fair. Even leaving a dozen ways in to the castle open for our need.'

'How?'

'Come now. Besides, we are hardly without allies. All the North hates your guts and even the rest don't trust you.'

They glanced about the Hall. It was surprisingly thinly populated, but as the only warm roofed building in the ruins bar the kitchen, it had nearly all the fighting men from the Twins and the Dreadfort in it. The guards outside must already be dealt with.

'Do you want to flay the Bastard?' asked Stannis grimly of Theon.

'No, I have learned my lessons about pain. Just kill him fast.'

'NO!' screamed Ramsay. 'Don't dismiss me, you- you-'

'Very well,' said Stannis, 'But I can't promise him a clean death, and we can't afford to let one get away. TORCHES!'

Behind them Mance Rayder and Ramsay's bride appeared. As they passed along the line, the arrows flamed up yellow and hungry.

King's Landing

'It's a Monster!' shrieked a woman as the knight squirming in Robert Strong's grip kicked away his Greathelm.

The Champion of the Faith had been brave; he had faced the eight feet of steel without quailing. But Queen Cersei's Champion had smashed his shield to kindling in a few blows, then caught his axe in a gauntlet and broken off its head. Then he had picked his opponent up by his throat, but perhaps should have taken more heed of the kicking legs.

As the helm bounced on the floor, the head beneath was revealed. Grossly misshapen, lumpy, covered with stitches and with patches of skin that did not match, but the face at the front- even though it seemed like a face flayed and then stitched back on to a crude mold- seemed horribly familiar.

'Kill the abomination!' screamed the High Septon. Straight away several Poor Fellows cast aside their robes to reveal bows, and another lit the arrows. Warrior's Sons drew their swords.

They've been planning, thought Cersei. But so have I, especially now that traitorous fool Kevan got himself killed.

Robert Strong howled and betrayed pain for the first time as burning arrows thudded into him, but they did not stop him. He flung the champion aside and waded into the crowd, cutting his way through women and children with his colossal ugly cleaver towards the High Septon. At the same time, Guardsmen drew their own steel.

Among the crowd, cloaks were flung back. More weapons appeared.

This is going to get messy, Cersei thought.

The Twins

'I admit, he especially is rather worm-eaten, but I assure you it is him.'

'I recognise him. I saw him die once.' Lord Walder Frey peered at the bodies on the table. 'And Catelyn Stark was leading them! We killed her too. How is a man supposed to keep order when people won't stay dead?'

'They're dead enough now.' Jaime Lannister waved with his golden hand. 'I feel this calls for a celebration.'

'Long enough coming,' growled Lord Frey, 'those brigands managed to kill half my family and virtually made me a prisoner in my own castle. How did you get them in the end?'

'A little cunning, and I admit a little treachery.' Jaime swigged a flagon of wine. 'How about some music. The Rains of Castermere, perhaps?'

'I have happy memories of that song.' Lord Frey waved a hand and the minstrel struck up the tune. 'Will your captains not join us?'

'I don't think so,' said Jaime, 'They won't eat your bread and salt.'

Lord Frey scowled.

'Let us not forget who had the idea for the Red Wedding, Lannister! Yet it is my house which must re-write history or be accursed.'

'I am far too aware,' said Jaime. Screams sounded in the distance.

'What the-' snapped Lord Walder.

'My Lord!' screamed a messenger, running in. 'The Lannister force has turned on us! They are burning our men in their barracks and herding the hostages, women and children from the castle!'

'I won't kill your young or female kin,' said Jaime, 'But the bandits are still out there waiting for them I'm afraid. They might want to do what was done to them.'

'What is the meaning of this…!' Lord Frey started to his arthritic feet, nearly falling over.

'The only way to purge the honour of my house,' said Jaime calmly, refilling his goblet. 'Kingslayer, they call me. Of late they have also called me sister-lover, disgrace to the Kingsguard, disappointment to my father, brother to the whore who killed Baratheon and the Imp who killed his father, the man who throws boys out of windows. I cannot even fight properly any more. There is only one way to redemption, but it took me a while and a meeting with Lady Stoneheart to see it.'

Smoke filled their air. The guards were driven back from the main doors, which were slammed shut.

'We have you!' A dozen swords were levelled at Jaime. 'Call them off or you die!'

'Oh, I am not leaving here any more than you are,' said Jaime. 'Shared guilt, shared fate.'

'You ate my bread and salt!'

'I only drank your wine. But even if I had, that doesn't mean what it used to around here. Just ask her.'

Lord Walder turned. The body of Catelyn Stark was on its feet, the fires of hell in its peeling face as it glared at him.

As it advanced, Lord Walder began to scream…

Mereen Bay

'What is that?' Victarion squinted through the Myrish Eye at the corpse hanging from the walls.

'The body of their erstwhile King, also called the Harpy,' rumbled Moquorro. 'The last betrayer of Daenerys.'

Victarion lowered the brass tube.

'The Volantine Fleet is behind us, and now you tell me the Queen and her Dragons are on campaign. What are we supposed to do?'

'The Queen places her old lover Daario on the throne of Yunkai as we speak, just as she will place the Tattered Prince in Pentos, the Widow in Volantis, the Shavepate in Mereen and Illyrio in Myr,' said Moquorro. 'Some will stand and some will fall, but the Slavers will never recover. She has no compromise left for these lands; she is the Mother of the Free.'

'That is all very well, but what of my Bride and the Dragons I shall bring to the Iron Islands?'

'Blow the Horn, and they shall come.'

'What man shall give his life to the horn?'

'Only Azor Ahai may truly master the horn. He alone may blow it to command the Dragons, and he alone shall live.'

Victarion blew the horn, and felt his lungs burn as he felt his arm burn too, but he was sure he was stronger than ever as he waited.

Within a couple of hours, the dots on the horizon had grown to three Dragons: White, Green, and the mightiest- the Black- beating ahead in the lead. His men gasped; some fell to their knees.

Dragons, thought Victarion. Who could ever stand against a Dragon?

The beasts landed ahead of them on the beach where the Ironmen were drawn up. They did not look ready to obey. Some had holes in their wings or smoke bleeding from their scales, but none seemed slowed at all by it. They peered curiously at the Ironmen and the Red Priest.

It was the woman who drew the eye, however. Dismounting from the saddle on the Black Dragon, climbing easily down off his neck, she did not appear in the least frightened or even cautious. Clad all in armour of silvered steel, purple eyes shining, the Mother of Dragons strode forwards.

'What?' she snapped.

More of his men were falling to their knees; this was bad. Victarion hesitated a moment.

'I have blown the Dragon Horn,' he cried, 'Your beasts are mine. As are you. We shall marry and I, Azor Ahai, shall rule Westeros.'

The Red priest tugged on his sleeve.

'I am afraid I was mistaken,' he said. He did not look terribly perturbed. 'It seems that _she_ is Azor Ahai.'

Victarion would have said something, but the burning in his lungs and his arm was suddenly overwhelming.

The Aerie

'The time is right,' said Petyr Baelish. 'If I allow Cersei to ruin Westeros any more, it won't be worth having. She is besieged in the Castle by the Faithful while the Tyrells, convinced that a mad Cersei is holding their kinfolk hostage, prevent the Lannisters besieging King's Landing in turn. Soon they will fight and the winner will take on this pretend-Aegon and his sellswords. Then our Army of Arryn arrives to take control of what is left.'

'Was this your plan all along?' asked Sansa.

'A good plan adapts as circumstances change. But the changes have all been better than I could have hoped.' Petyr Baelish sipped his wine.

'Will you be King?' asked Sansa.

'No, but I shall rule.' He smiled. 'You will marry Tommen.'

'But you have already betrothed me!' To the youth who would be Lord of the Vale when the young heir died, which even she thought would likely be a mercy.

'I'm afraid you shall be widowed. But your mother was as beautiful as ever after she was widowed.' He spoke sadly, as if he had not helped that betrayal.

'Your face shall be still as water,' it seemed as if someone whispered in Sansa's ear. She glanced around but there was no-one there. Or had a shadow flitted across one wall?

Petyr choked, gasped. For a moment be stared at his wine-glass incredulously, then at his plate, then he was sagging to the floor, his eyes bulging and his mouth working.

'Can't- who-' he managed.

'Not I,' said Sansa, 'but you have trained me well for assuming power when men die.' She stood up and looked down at him. 'You always had a bad heart. I shall tell people that No-One killed you.'

The Wall

'Well, I'm back from rescuing all those Wildlings,' said Jon.

'How did you manage to feed them all, and how are we going to feed them now you're back?' complained Maester Sam Tarly.

'It's hard to believe we managed it,' said Jon, 'But then they seem to survive quite well in a permanently frozen land at the best of times, it's remarkable what they manage to live off.'

'Yes, it is incredible,' said Sam.

'We had to come back overland,' said John. 'You wouldn't believe how nasty undead Kraken and Whales can be. But they weren't the weirdest thing. The Ravens have started talking to me like men, giving reports about the movements of the Wights, the Others, and what's going on everywhere else in the world. Sometimes they almost seem like they are talking with the voice of my brother Bran, but he's dead.'

'Ah,' said Sam, 'Well about that….'

King's Landing

Each hour on the hour Robert Strong, if that was his name, patrolled the Castle.

Even the defenders gave him a wide berth. No cat, rat or dog would suffer to be near him. He merely stood inside the gate, motionless as a statue, until the hour struck and then he would circle the castle, always following the same route. As he went along the battlements his shadow would fall on the town below in more ways than one.

Only trouble would make him stop or deviate from his path, but now any attackers tended to flee from him even as they cursed him.

Trouble might have saved him. As he passed below a courtyard archway, a vat of wildfire fell on him from above, igniting as it did so.

The giant spent a few moments peering upwards as he blazed like a torch, even started towards the stairs, before the scream began. It was deeper than a scream should be, and louder. Even then though his movements hardly changed, only became slightly jerky. He had crossed the yard and even ascended a couple of steps before his knees buckled, then he stayed there kneeling silently even as his armour began to melt.

Already on the other side of the battlements, a small dark figure paused in its departure.

'Ser Gregor off the list,' it said to itself, 'or what was left of him, anyway.'

King's Landing/Blackwater

Cersei had heard the saying that the sea was white with sails. Not all of the sails were white, but they really did nearly cover the sea.

'Seven save us,' she said, as she gazed through the Myrish Eye beyond the ravaged town below.

There were ships there that had once been Volantine, ships there that had once been Iron Island, ships that had once been Pentosi or Myrish. There were many ships that still appeared to be Braavosi. But of the others whose colours she could make out, they all had one principal badge: the three-headed Dragon.

Were those Dothraki on some of the ships?

She swung the eyeglass south. There, massing on the headland were more banners, and in the forefront was the three-headed Dragon again. With the colours of Dorne, of the Vale, and she wasn't surprised to see some Tyrell there as well.

It was too much to hope for that they would fight each other. Even if they did, she had no army to her name that could even turn back a rabble of survivors.

It was over.

The taste was so bitter that she wanted to scream. She, Cersei Lannister, the Golden Princess, she'd had it all. She'd taken everything that was her right. And then she'd been betrayed, time after time, betrayed and let down, and it had all crumbled away. Now even the Gods mocked her by raising Targaryens and Dragons from the grave to finish her off.

'I hope the Others wipe this whole world clean,' she hissed, then she turned and ran.

'Tommen? Where is he?' she screamed as she reached her room.

'Someone let free the Tyrells,' said her serving maid. 'They have barricaded themselves in the East Tower with His Grace and the last of the Kingsguard.'

Cersei spent only a few minutes screaming before she started to run.

The Wall

'I shall be King!' roared Stannis. 'I would not care if you were Aegon the Conqueror himself returned with fifty Dragons!'

'He's consistent, I give him that,' muttered Sam to Jon. Jon himself wanted to laugh. Of all the thousands of Westerosi, Wildlings, Unsullied, Dothraki, Braavosi, Freedmen, Night's Watch, Clansmen, Free Companies, Giants and Mammoth that stood behind them, only a tiny fraction were for Stannis. And not one of the Dragons.

'I am Azor Ahai, and I shall beat them back to the frozen Hell that spawned them!' he roared. 'Tell them!' He turned to his Red Priestess, who had been exchanging slightly exasperated looks with Daenerys' own Red Priest.

'I am sorry, but you are only _part_ of Azor Ahai,' she said, 'Her sword hand. I apologise, my humble vision was limited.'

'Priests or not, I am King!' raged Stannis. Dany had been bending down so that Tyrion could whisper into her ear.

'Very well,' she said after straightening up, 'You can be King, I shall be Empress.'

'Your Graces,' said Jon before Stannis could reply, 'May I suggest that you finalise the details AFTER we defeat the gigantic army of Wights and Others about to attack the opposite side of this wall?'

King's Landing

'Well, everything turned out a lot better than if could have,' remarked Tyrion to Varys.

'A shame about Stannis dying in the battle,' said Varys in a voice that did not contain much grief, 'but if our Queen is serious about creating a new and kinder world, he is better off as a dead hero.'

'Especially with people now actually liking him for the first time ever,' said Tyrion. He shaded his eyes a little to peer out. 'Hardly an issue for our Dany, it seems.'

There would never have been room in the city for everyone who wanted to see the weddings and coronation; it was being done out on the hills. Unsullied lined the processional route, holding the crowd back with their shields.

The couples to be married came first. Edric Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell foremost; despite one being a newly legitimised bastard and the other having been through two annulled marriages already, the cheers were huge. Then came Prince Aegon and Princess Arianne of Dorne, to more cheers. And finally was Daenerys Stormborn, riding high on top of an elephant, radiant. Around her marched the Queensguard lead by Barristan Selmy and Brienne of Tarth. High above her, the Dragons wheeled.

'Mother!' cried the crowds, 'MOTHER!'

'Do you think she really can do it?' asked Varys.

'She brought back Summertime and united most of the known world,' said Tyrion. 'With me as her Hand, I think she can.'

Varys gave a snort, but not unkindly.

'Are you going to be Lord of Casterly Rock?' he asked.

'Oh I'll have my hands full here. I'll leave that to Tommen- and his cats of course. My time off is going to be spent in a little cottage.' He smiled, and cast his eyes over the various dignitaries waiting around the hill fore the ceremonies. Such as had survived the recent turmoil, of course. Among them was a scarred woman who smiled a lot more these days.

The Mistress of the Iron Islands was still looking a bit sour; in spite of her uncle's panicked flight, Asha was going to have to bring about serious change there, and actually marry her lover. Mance Rayder the Lord Beyond the Wall was suffering a bit in the heat, while his sister-in-law Val appeared to be morbidly fascinated by the whole thing. Her new husband Torren looked nervous.

Stood at the altar, the High Septon and the Red Priest were trying not to look askance at the other, or at the Weirwood log propped nearby.

Tyrion couldn't resist staring again at the Starks, though.

Lord Rickon Stark, Warden of the North, was hardly looking the part as he still kept hopping out of his chair to cuddle one of his sisters or say something to a brother. He seemed just as happy talking to the Raven perched on the back of his chair as to Jon Snow. Even after everything, Tyrion still found the idea that the bird saw with Bran's eyes and spoke with his voice rather disturbing.

Two wolves were asleep in the sun at their feet, after having chased each other madly round the town twice in the night.

'Surprisingly resilient family,' he commented.

'Very much so. Apparently they are going to have a second set of Words- "only by treachery can we fall." '

'Are we _ever_ going to know who Jon's mother was?' frowned Tyrion.

'I doubt it,' shrugged the eunuch.

Tyrion turned his attention to the girls. Sansa was radiant as ever, but Arya…

'She is taking after Lyanna Stark, is she not?' murmured Varys, as if reading his thoughts.

Even Lyanna didn't usually wear a sword on her hip, thought Tyrion, but he said,

'Can it be true? Have the Faceless Men really released one of their own?'

'When the task achieved was great enough, apparently so, or she would not be standing here alive,' said Varys. 'She warned us to look out for her wolf, by the way. Claimed she was coming back after finishing her last job for her, whatever that means….'

'We have lived in times that will make legends, have we not?' said Tyrion.

'We certainly have,' sighed Varys.

Somewhere near the Kingsroad, the Previous Night

No breath left for screaming, the woman still mouthed prayers and curses to the gods in equal measure as she ran.

She should have stayed a camp follower, part of her knew. Even as a ragged whore following the army, taking bread and coins from drunken soldiers, she had enjoyed a kind of safety. But her pride…. her pride again, and she had set out on her own for the west.

She had gone into the woods a little way to wail, as she did most nights when the rage got too much, and then she had seen the Direwolf looking at her.

It knew her, she realised straight away. And it hated her.

It did not want to finish her off quickly, merely biting whenever she slowed. As she stumbled and clambered and pulled herself back to her feet time after time, whipped bloody by twigs and brambles, it seemed to her that the Direwolf was joined by others loping along with it.

There was a younger and smaller Direwolf bitch, grave-dirt on fur that had once been well brushed. There was a light grey wolf that was somehow ridden by a boy with no legs. There was a lean beast wearing a crown and streaming blood from a dozen wounds.

But looming over them all was their father, a giant grizzled wolf that had, she knew, no more mercy for her. Not this time.

Finally, Cersei fell. As the Direwolves closed in, she found she still had breath to scream after all.

THE END


End file.
